


Love Of Your Life

by hellahotchner



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:28:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25085437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellahotchner/pseuds/hellahotchner
Summary: When you’ve been with someone for a long time, parts of your relationship can become routine. Dates become less spontaneous and more strictly scheduled, you go to bed at the same time every night, you eat the same dinners, and most of all: the sex falls into a slump.You decide to fix that.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Original Female Character(s), Aaron Hotchner/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 223





	Love Of Your Life

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, not set at any particular time! And as always, be kind<3

When you’ve been with someone for a long time, parts of your relationship can become routine. Dates become less spontaneous and more strictly scheduled, you go to bed at the same time every night, you eat the same dinners, and most of all: the sex falls into a slump. 

You’ve been married to Aaron Hotchner for just over three years, which isn’t even that long, and you can feel the two of you hitting that rut in your relationship. Your date nights are every Friday that he’s home, you two go to bed before midnight on most nights, you have spaghetti at least once a week, and you can’t remember the last time you two had sex that wasn’t missionary. 

That isn’t to say you’re unhappy, because you’re not. Of course you’re not. Aaron Hotchner is the love of your life, and every single day that you spend with him is the new best day of your life. You couldn’t imagine someone more perfect for you than Aaron, nor do you want to. You’re happy with your relationship, absolutely over the fucking moon. 

You do kind of miss the exciting sex, though. 

You’re sure that part of it has to do with Aaron’s age. He’s 47 years old, which is still fairly young, but just not as young as he used to be. He’s in shape from all the work he does in the field and from working out at home, but it takes a larger toll on his body than it did when he was in his 20s and 30s. He’s tired when he comes home from work and from cases, and you get that. His job is _a_ _lot._

While you also work in the BAU, you never go into the field. You were hired to work alongside Garcia, so you mostly stayed in the office with her, helping out with tech stuff. And if you _did_ go on a case with them, you were never one to go out into the actual field. You weren’t even armed, ever. 

So you see him at work, and you see how much he puts into his job. It’s one of the things you love the most about him. That’s why you haven’t pushed things, why you’ve let your sexual relationship fall by the wayside. 

But you can’t anymore. It’s the first Friday in ages that everything is perfect: there’s no case, there isn't a lot of paperwork, and Jack is staying at a friend’s house. Just knowing the potential of the night has you pressing your thighs together, practically dripping at just the thought of getting to finally have sex with your husband. 

You knew, though, that you’d have to push him into wanting something besides missionary. You’d have to remind him of what your sex life could be like.

It was Garcia who gave you the perfect idea. Hotch was in a meeting with Chief Cruz, and you’d taken the lull in work as an opportunity to complain about how you hadn’t gotten laid in _weeks._ Garcia had made a joke about not wanting to know the details of her boss’s sex life before rolling her chair closer to yours and lowering her voice to a whisper. 

“You know what you should do?” She grins, her eyes lit up with mischief, and you _know_ that she has the best plan in mind. She’s always been really good at causing trouble. “You should totally catch him off guard while he’s at work. If you turn him on in the middle of the day and then ignore him after, he won’t be able to stop thinking about you until you get home tonight. And then he’ll be so desperate that he’ll be the one begging.”

“How do you always know exactly what to do?”

Garcia grins, tossing her hair over her shoulder smugly. “It’s what I do, sugar. Seduction is my middle name,” she winks, before rolling her chair back over to her monitors. “You should get it done snappy, though. It’ll be even better if you get him flustered in front of Cruz.”

That’s how you ended up sneaking off to the women’s bathroom, where you took off your panties and then shoved them into the pocket of your skirt. All of the girls at work always obsessed over your skirts because you always found the cutest pencil skirts with pockets, and they claimed they could never find them. This was the perfect example of why you always made the effort to find clothes with pockets. 

You made your way across the BAU towards Cruz’s office, with just a bit too much pep in your step judging by how loud your heels clicked with each step. But once you arrived at the office, you pressed your ear to the door to make sure there wasn’t any serious conversation going, before lightly knocking. 

“Come in,” Cruz calls, and you poke your head in quickly. “What do you need?”

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, sir, I was just hoping I could borrow Agent Hotchner for a moment? It’s nothing too urgent, if your meeting is super important. I hadn’t realized you were in a meeting at all, I was just told that Agent Hotchner was here.” You bite your lip to cut off your nervous rambling, and force yourself to keep your gaze on Cruz instead of Aaron. 

It’s a lie, of course. You knew Aaron was there for a meeting and not just a quick chat, but you wouldn’t admit that to them. Not if you wanted your plan to work. 

Cruz nods, gesturing towards the door. “It’s not a problem at all, Y/N. Happy wife, happy life,” he teases, and you smile back before stepping out of the doorway so Aaron could exit through it. 

Once he’s out and the door is closed again, you grab his hand and pull him down the hall to the closest empty office, ignoring his questions as you lock the door and close the blinds behind you. 

When you turn to look at him, he looks confused and highly concerned, and searches your face for an answer. “Y/N, what’s going on? Did something happen?” He asks worriedly, and you shake your head quickly. 

“No, no, nothing’s happened. Relax.” You move towards the desk in the room, propping yourself up to sit on the edge. Aaron raises an eyebrow, clearly getting a bit annoyed, so you sigh heavily. “Look, okay, this is embarrassing enough, so please don’t laugh at me. But I noticed a really weird feeling earlier, and I just went to the bathroom and I can tell there’s something on my legs, but I can’t see it. And you know how bad my anxiety gets, and you’re the only person who can look for me. I really didn’t know you were in a meeting, otherwise I wouldn’t have interrupted, I’m just… I’m scared it’s something bad,” you explain, trying not to smile through your lie. 

Aaron looks concerned again. “You couldn’t see if there was something on your leg?”

“Well, it’s…” You blush a little bit, and avert your gaze. “It’s a little… more in between my legs, if you know what I mean. That’s why I’m so concerned.”

He seems to understand what you’re implying, so after double checking the lock and the blinds, he moves to sit in a chair so he’s level with your crotch. You push yourself mostly off the desk, enough that you can slowly pull your skirt up and reveal what’s underneath—or, rather, what’s _not_ underneath. 

You see the exact moment that Aaron realizes what you’re doing, and it makes you smirk. “Do you see anything concerning, Aaron?” You ask haughtily, leaning down closer to his ear. “I’m definitely still feeling something.”

“Y/N, this is highly inappropriate,” he mumbles, but his voice is taut and rough and you know that you’ve got him. You straighten your skirt at the same moment he stands up, clearly struggling not to let himself get turned on. 

“What did you see, Aaron?”

He just frowns, walking closer to you until you’re pressed against the desk, and he’s looming over you. “I see a desperate little slut who interrupted my meeting with a superior just to show me that she’s not wearing panties at work.”

You pout, “I can’t help it, baby. The panties got too wet to keep wearing.” 

“I’m sure they did,” he nods, but he still doesn’t let that steely expression drop. “I could see how wet you were, darling.”

“You haven’t touched me in so long,” you continue, reaching up to run your fingers along his lapels. “I miss you, Aaron. I’m getting desperate.” You see a flash of guilt go through his eyes, so you reach up to cup his cheeks and make him look at you. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. “But don’t think you’re going to get off the hook by being cute. This is still highly inappropriate, and I will punish you for it later. Right now, you’re going to have to deal with being horny at work, because you’re in for it when we get off.”

“I sure hope we get off,” you tease. Aaron starts to move for the door, but you quickly catch his hand and pull him back. “Wait, I have something for you.” You dig in your pocket and press your panties into his hand. “A little something to remember me by, Agent Hotchner.” 

He shoves them into his pocket and, without a word, heads back to Cruz’s office to finish up his meeting. You struggle to contain your excitement as you head back to yours and Garcia’s office, biting your lip to try and hide the wide smile. 

:::

It felt like years before the end of the day. As it turns out, going half a workday without panties while also being horny beyond belief isn’t as easy as you’d hoped it’d be. You felt like you were constantly having to check to make sure you weren’t soaking your skirt, and you could barely keep your mind on task. So, when the end of the day rolled around, you nearly leapt out of your chair.

Garcia laughed as you ran out the door, wishing you _happy humping!,_ but you barely even registered it as you hauled ass for Aaron’s office. You wondered—hoped—that he’d been thinking about you just as much as you’d been thinking about him. 

He was sitting at his desk when you got to his office, so you lightly knocked on the open door to announce your presence before coming over to sit in the chair across from him. 

“This is my last report,” he informs you, and you nod once. “Have you had a good day, my love?”

You nod again, “Pretty good. Kind of boring, but I guess a boring day in the FBI is a good day for the country.” He chuckles lightly at you, and you can’t help but smile. You love his laugh, and he laughs so infrequently at work that you never take it for granted when he does. “It’s also not any easier when you’re soaking wet.”

Aaron barely even reacts to the statement, but you hadn’t expected him to. The man had the most impressive self control of anybody you’d ever met. “And whose fault was that, Y/N?”

“Yours, of course,” you tease, leaning your elbow on his desk and then resting your chin in your hand. “If you’d stop being so hot in a suit, I wouldn’t get so turned on.”

“And if I touched you more often.”

_Yes, that too._ But you don’t say that out loud. Instead, you just reach out and put your hand over the top of his. “Hey, I was only teasing you. I know work has been really stressful, Aaron. You don’t have to be hard on yourself for not being in the mood. You don’t owe me sex if you don’t feel like having it.”

“I know,” he reassures you. “But it’s important to me that I make you feel good. And I’m going to make it up to you.” He squeezes your hand and then lets it go, closing the report he’d been working on and giving you a small smile. “Let’s go to the car.”

You two had a strict rule about not having sex at work. It was way too risky, and Aaron would get in loads of trouble if he was caught being inappropriate at work. He has way too much on the line to ever risk it for a cheap thrill. It’s for that reason that you two barely even touch at work, and that you never call each other by first names in front of colleagues. You’d promised years ago that things would remain professional, and you held up to that promise even into marriage. 

But the car wasn’t the office. 

You felt like a teenager, practically running out of the building and to the parking garage, giddy with excitement. You knew you were about to get it good, and you couldn’t _wait._ Aaron was the absolute best you’ve ever had, probably the best person in bed to ever exist. His hands, his dick, his _mouth._ You’d swear on a Bible that he could work magic between any woman’s legs. 

But he’d only ever fuck _you._ He was stuck with you for the rest of his life, if you had anything to say about it. 

When you two get to the car, however, Aaron goes for the drivers side instead of the backseat. You pout instantly, coming up next to him and tugging on his jacket sleeve before he can get into the car. 

“The car doesn’t count as the office,” you practically whine, putting your body between himself and the car. “Come on, Aaron. Fuck me.”

“Not here,” he shakes his head. “I’m not going to fuck you in the backseat of a car where you have to be quiet, when I could spend hours ravishing you on our bed at home and make you scream.”

He says it so monotone, so unaffected, that if you couldn’t feel his erection pressed against you then you’d think he really was unaffected. You shiver at both his tone and his promise, and hurry over to the passenger seat. The faster that you two got home, the faster he’d have you screaming. 

Aaron was laughing when you got in the car, and you shot him a glare. “Sorry, you’re just really cute,” he grins, reaching over to start the car and then back out of the parking spot. 

Once you two are out of the Quantico parking lot, his hand finds your thigh. At first, you don’t think much of it—he always drives with either a hand on your thigh or while holding your hand. But you quickly realized his intentions as his hand started creeping higher and higher, pulling on the edge of your skirt to try and push it up. 

You took care of that, lifting your hips off the seat and rolling your tight skirt up as far as it would go. The fabric didn’t have much give for being pushed up your thighs, but you got it up far enough that Aaron’s hand could reach where you wanted it most. 

Gently, he traces one finger over your slit, a feather-light touch that sends shivers running up your spine. You fight the urge to press against his finger, because you know that being greedy will only make him go slower, and you needed him to rub your clit, like, _yesterday._

“Have you touched yourself today?” He asks coolly, adding the slightest bit of pressure so his fingertip slips between your folds. 

You shake your head, “N-No. I wanted to, though.” You bite your lip, and think over all the times you considered excusing yourself to go rub one out in the bathroom. “But I wanted to be good for you.”

“You’re always good for me,” he praises, and you can’t help but smile at him. You like when Aaron degrades you, but you _love_ when Aaron praises you. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. I haven’t been able to go longer than ten minutes without touching your panties in my pocket.”

_Mission accomplished, Penelope._ “I thought you might like that,” you pant out, whimpering as his finger ghosts over your clit once before returning to play with your folds. 

“When was the last time I touched you?”

You close your eyes, trying to think of the exact date. It was a Friday night, the last date night you had. Aaron has been away on cases for two date nights, so… “Three weeks ago today,” you murmur. 

“Have you touched yourself since then?”

“Yes.”

With that, his finger slips inside of you, and he immediately starts a rough pace of finger-fucking you. You cry out, arching against the seat and digging your nails into the center console. “Have you touched yourself while I was in the other room?”

“T-Twice while you were in the office, and one time in the shower while you were asleep.”

He doesn’t ask any other questions, just keeps up his brutal pace of fingering. It feels good, _so_ good, so much better than your own fingers. But it still isn’t enough, because you haven’t had his cock in three weeks and he still has yet to give your clit any attention. 

“Aaron, _please—”_

“You seem to have forgotten who you’re talking to, baby,” he murmurs lowly, and your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head. 

“Daddy,” you correct yourself. “Daddy, please, I need more. Please, please.”

He pulls his hand away altogether, and you whimper at the loss. You look over at him to ask _what the hell,_ but then you see him cleaning his fingers with his mouth and you nearly have an orgasm on the spot. 

It’s only when he parks the car that you realize you’ve arrived at home, and you quickly pull down your skirt and scramble out of the car. The both of you run up to the front door, giggling and horny like you’re back to your first year of dating. His hands shake as he unlocks the door, and the second you cross the threshold, he has you shoved against the wall of the entryway, kissing you so deeply and passionately that you can’t even catch your breath. 

He pushes your skirt up your thighs, but pushes your legs down when you try to jump up and wrap them around his waist. Instead of explaining why he isn’t trying to fuck you against the wall, he just trails open-mouthed kisses down your neck, while his fingers set to work on unbuttoning your blouse. 

Once it’s open, his kisses move around to your chest. He kisses down the valley of your breasts, pausing to tweak your nipples for a second, before kissing down your stomach. He bypasses your skirt, leaving it bunched up at your waist, and lets his kisses find their way to your clit. 

Your knees almost buckle when he closes his lips around your clit, but he reaches up his left hand to press flat on your stomach to keep you upright. His right hand goes back to your slit, and he pushes two fingers in, working them inside of you while his tongue’s attention stays on your clit. 

“Fuck, Daddy,” you practically sob, one hand finding his hair and the other touching your own breast. “Can I come, Daddy? Please, I’m so close already. Please, can I come?”

He pulls his face away to look up at you, and you cry out at the sight of how wet you’ve gotten his face. “Come for me, my love,” he encourages, making eye contact so you know he’s serious, before burying his face back against your pussy. 

You moan out his name as you come, your thighs trembling around his head as he works you through it. Your body nearly collapsed when you’ve worked through the last aftershock, but Aaron stands up quickly and catches you before your legs completely give up on you. 

“Take me to bed, Daddy,” you whisper, clinging to his shoulders and burying your head in his chest. He doesn’t waste any time picking you up, and hurrying to the bedroom. 

_Thank God Jack is out tonight, or we definitely would have scarred him for life with that display._

Aaron practically throws you onto the bed, before crawling up between your spread legs. He presses your lips together, and when he slides his tongue between your lips you can taste yourself lingering. You moan out at the taste, and reach down to pull at the knot of Aaron’s tie. 

He sits back on his haunches and pulls at his tie, pulling it off and then working on unbuttoning his shirt. You sit up enough to shrug off the blouse that he’d unbuttoned earlier, and toss it off the side of the bed without a second thought. You give Aaron a moment to admire your bra—a lacy baby pink one—before you take that off, too, and toss it across the room. The both of you laugh when it drapes across the lamp on his nightstand, but it dies out when you hear the clinking of Aaron’s belt coming off. 

Once his belt is gone, he’s laying on top of you again, his clothed erection pressed against you. It’s probably staining his pants, but you don’t have it in you to voice that concern. 

“I love you,” he breathes against your lips, as you whimper out soft pleas. “I love how desperate you get for me, darling. I love how I can reduce you to a pathetic, dripping, crying mess with hardly any effort. You’re an easy woman to please, aren’t you, baby? It’s always easy to please desperate sluts.”

You whimper louder, your hands finding their way to his shoulders. “Just for you, Daddy,” you breathe out, though you’re not entirely sure it makes sense with what he said. Your brain feels like mush. “I’m just desperate for you.”

“I know, baby. I’m so lucky.” He kisses you again, absolutely filthy, and then leans back again. Sure enough, there’s a wet patch across the zipper of his dress pants. “You’re making quite the mess, Y/N.” He digs your panties out of his pocket, dangling them in front of you. “Is that what these panties looked like, earlier? I bet they were practically _transparent_ from how much you’d soaked them. I’m surprised they didn’t put a wet patch in my pocket.” He holds them up to his eye, and then shoots you a smile. “These are some of my favorites, though. You always look so beautiful in them. It’s a shame I didn’t get to see them on you.” He tosses them to the side, and then works on opening his pants. 

“Did you think about me, Daddy?” You ask quietly, watching as he slowly peels his dress pants off and gently lays them on the chair near the bed. “I thought showing you up my skirt might… fluster you, a bit.”

Aaron huffs a laugh, “I certainly wasn’t expecting that right in the middle of my meeting. But of course I thought about you.” His boxers come off next, and your mouth starts to water at the sight of how hard his cock is, red and angry and dripping like he’s been half-hard all day. You secretly hope that he was. “I’m always thinking about you, pretty girl. I promise.” 

He leans forward, looping his arms around your thighs until your lower back is resting on his folded knees, and your hips are propped up and angled towards him. He reaches forward to drag his thumb through your wetness and then he settles it on your clit, drawing achingly slow circles that make your hips jump. 

“How do you want it, baby?” He asks, holding the most intense eye contact he’s made all night. “Daddy hasn’t been giving you the attention you deserve, baby, and I’m sorry for that. I know I said I was going to punish you, but I think I have more apologizing to do than you do. So tell me how you want it, beautiful. Tell Daddy how you need it.”

Part of you wants to insist, again, that Aaron hadn’t done anything wrong by not having sex with you. That he doesn’t owe you anything, that his tiredness and lack of libido was understandable. But the other part of you is dizzyingly horny, and you want Aaron’s cock in you more than you want anything else in the world. 

“You know— You know how, _fuck,_ I—” You close your eyes, trying to focus on what you’re saying rather than the feeling of his touch. He stops, though, and instead starts to rub comforting circles into your hips. You force your eyes open again, and meet his soft gaze. “You know how, on Sundays, we used to wake up and you were spooning me? And you’d wake up hard, and you’d grind into my ass before eventually I rolled over?” He nods a little bit, and you smile at him, making grabby hands so he’ll lean down to kiss you. Of course, he does, but he only kisses you once before pulling back and waiting for you to finish. “What if we did it like that, but I didn’t turn around?”

“So, spooning?” He asks, and you nod eagerly, biting your lip in anticipation. “Whatever you want, pretty girl. Lay down on your side.”

You slide off of his lap and then lay down on your side of the bed, on your side. Aaron slips behind you easily, pressing his chest to your back with one arm sliding underneath your chest, the other one reaching for your leg. He grips your thigh and holds it up, and then presses a wet kiss right behind your ear. 

“Can you hold your leg here for me, my love?”

You reach your hand down to hold your thigh up, and he uses that hand to reach down and line himself up with you. For a few agonizing moments, he teases you by rubbing the head over your folds, never quite slipping in. But once your whimpers get loud enough, he pushes in, promptly knocking all the wind out of your lungs. 

Immediately, you drop your thigh, hooking your leg backwards over his hip. The stretch burns a little bit, so you angle more towards him, making it easier for him to hook his chin over your shoulder and press a kiss to your cheek. 

The hand that he’d used to line himself up comes around your body, pressing on your lower stomach to hold your hips down while he starts to drive into you. You cry out at the feeling of him inside of you—you’d missed it _so_ much, missed being this close to him, and missed getting off without just using your own hand. 

You turn your chin towards him, pursing your lips for a kiss. He’s quick to oblige, working his tongue with yours, and you both swallow each other’s moans. 

Both of your hands grip onto his forearm, while his hand—the one that he’d slid underneath your body—reaches for your breast and holds onto it. The nipple stimulation makes you moan out even louder, which of course prompts him to reach down lower than your lower stomach and start rubbing your clit.

Let it never be said that Aaron Hotchner isn’t good in bed, because you _swear_ he’s sending you to another dimension or something. His magic cock mixed with the nipple stimulation, clit stimulation, _and_ his expert kisses? It’s twenty seconds before you’re crying out his name and coming all over his cock.

But he doesn’t come, nor does he let up. Your body tries to arch away from him, already overstimulated and sensitive, but Aaron just lets go of your breast in favor of pressing his palm flat against your chest. “You’ve got one more in you, sweetheart,” he breathes into your neck, as you start to cry from both the pleasure and overstimulation. “Three orgasms, one for every week I haven’t touched you. Just one more, baby. You’re doing so good for me, always my good girl. You can be good and come again for me, can’t you, baby?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you sob out, though you’re not 100% sure that you can. Aaron isn’t the only one that’s getting older and more tired. “Fuck, Daddy, feels so good. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too, pretty girl. Missed how good you feel around me, so tight, so perfect. How are you always so fucking tight for me, hm?” He stops rubbing your clit, instead grabbing your thigh from where it’s draped across his leg. He hooks his hand under your knee and then presses it upwards, so your thigh is nearly parallel to your side.

The new angle lets his cock hit new depths, he’s so deep inside of you that you swear you can feel him in your stomach. 

Aaron growls, “That’s it, my good girl. Take it, just like that. You take it so fucking well, you’re so beautiful. You’re made for me, I know you are. You were made to take my cock, weren’t you, sweetheart? Just for me, all for me.”

“I’m yours,” you cry out, as his hips pound into you so hard that all you can hear is the sound of skin on skin. “I’m all yours, Daddy.”

“Come,” he breathes, pressing his lips against your shoulder. “Come for me, baby girl. Show Daddy how good he makes you feel.”

For a second, your body feels like it’s trying to fight your impending orgasm. But then a particularly hard thrust hits your g-spot dead on, and your orgasm hits you abruptly. Your entire body trembles and convulses as you scream your way through five or six different octaves. You’re pretty sure that you scream his name a couple of times, but you can’t be sure. 

Aaron’s orgasm comes right after yours, and he releases balls deep inside of you, dropping your leg in favor of wrapping both arms around you and holding you as tightly to his chest as you can. 

For a while after, you two stay exactly like that to come down from your orgasms. It takes you longer to recuperate than he does, but even as your mind starts clearing up and your hearing comes back, your leg doesn’t stop shaking. 

“It’s been a while since you’ve fucked me so hard that my leg shakes like that,” you tease as he pulls out. You roll over in Aaron’s arms, then, so you’re chest to chest. He tightens his grip around you, holding you close to him despite all of the sweat and other fluids that are probably all over the both of you. 

“How are you feeling?” He murmurs into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

You laugh in disbelief, shocked that he even has to ask. “Are you kidding me? I’ve never felt better. Thank God we’re married, because I’m pretty sure I’d never be able to have satisfying sex with any other man. You’ve ruined me.”

Aaron laughs. “Good. I don’t even want to think about any other man touching you.” 

“You don’t have to,” you whisper. “I meant what I said. I’m yours.” He reaches down for your left hand, where he starts twisting the rings around your finger. 

_I, Aaron Hotchner, take you, Y/N Y/L/N, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part._

_I, Y/N Y/L/N, take you, Aaron Hotchner, to be my husband, to have to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part._

“I really am sorry that it’s been so long,” he apologizes. You open your mouth to protest, but he just shuts you up with a quick kiss, leaving you to pout as he continues. “I know that you don’t want me to be sorry, but I am. Like I said, it’s important to me that I make you feel good. I know things have started to feel a bit routine between us, and I know that comes with long term relationships, but I also don’t want us to lose the spark that we’ve had from the beginning.”

“We won’t,” you reassure him. “Even on our most boring day, you excite me. Every time you call me beautiful, I get butterflies. Every time you kiss me in public, I smile so big that it hurts. You still make me nervous, you still make me happy, you still make me _excited._ It doesn’t matter if we’re fucking like rabbits in the backseat of the car because we were too desperate to wait until we got home or if we’re cuddled up in our pajamas eating leftover pasta and watching _Friends_ reruns, I love everything that we do. I love everything about my life with you, Aaron, and there isn’t a single thing that I would change.”

You swear that you see tears in his eyes, but he doesn’t give you a chance to really look to be sure before he’s pulling you into his chest again. You giggle as he pulls you up and off of the bed, shifting you so you’re draped over his shoulder. You hit your hands against his back, laughing around your pleas for him to put you down, but he just carries you like that all the way to the bathroom. 

Before he puts you down, he lands a firm smack on your ass. You squeal as he does, giggling even louder as you hit his chest the first chance you get. 

“Why did you do that?!” You laugh, watching as he turns to run a bath. 

“It was right in my face,” he shrugs. 

You laugh louder, kicking his shin gently. “I didn’t mean _that._ I meant why did you carry me in here like I was a sack of potatoes!”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he just sits on the lip of the tub, and watches you as you collapse into giggles. It should be gross—you have awful sex hair, you’re sweaty, there’s drying spit on your neck from his open-mouthed kisses, and there’s a mix of your arousal and his release starting to drip down your thighs. But Aaron doesn’t seem to notice or care about any of it, because he still just stares at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“What?” You finally ask, your voice soft. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Aaron shrugs, a small smile on his face. “I just can’t believe you’re real, sometimes. I’m a very, very lucky man to have you.” He stands up, and pulls you into his arms for another kiss. And then another, and another, and a few more after that. 

And then, of course, he lets his hand slide from your hip to smack your ass again. 

“Aaron Hotchner!”

_”A gentleman holds my hand. A man pulls my hair. A soulmate will do both.”_

_–Alessandra Torre_

**Author's Note:**

> You can pry soft Hotch from my cold, dead hands.


End file.
